


Slipped

by chshrkitten



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay
Genre: But I think it’s good so I’m posting it, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It’s mostly just fluff tho, Kink Discovery, Minor Injuries, This isn’t even really sexual but there’s a little bit of:, honestly I might get embarrassed and take this down tomorrow, on Christine’s part, slightly awkward fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chshrkitten/pseuds/chshrkitten
Summary: Christine skinned her knee earlier, and her husband is easily worried. A short, slightly strange late-evening conversation.





	Slipped

And then Erik dropped to his knees, apropos of nothing on the bedroom carpet. Christine looked down, and tried to catch his gaze, but his golden eyes were fixed on...her knee?

He reached out, and the tips of three fingers grazed the bandaid she’d applied earlier. 

_Oh._

“Angel, how did this happen? How did you hurt yourself?”

Christine tried for a laugh. “I slipped, on the way inside from the car earlier. You know, the walk was all wet from the rain, and…”

His fingers traced around the edge of the bandage, just barely brushing her skin. She let out a short, sharp breath through her nose, and Erik looked up. His eyes were wide now, and he glanced down at his hand as though he hadn’t quite realized what it was doing. “Ah. I’m sorry, I—“

“No. You don’t— you didn’t do anything.” Christine could feel a strange, sad laugh twisting up through her chest. _We are literally married, Erik. You can…_ She suppressed it. Laughter was the last thing anyone here needed. “I just, I just skinned my knee.” She continued quietly. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Erik nodded, hand still hovering in the air. “Good.” It dropped to his side. “Good, I simply wanted to be sure...that you were…” He trailed off. “I’m glad it doesn’t hurt.”  
He was still kneeling, of course. He had knelt before her so often, Christine wondered if it seemed like a somehow natural pose to him. But it occurred to her that no, actually he hadn’t been in this position at all since they were married, three weeks ago. Maybe it was just that the other times had been…well, memorable. 

Maybe that was why it felt so new and strange to have him here like this now. He wasn’t crying or pleading or making dramatic revelations. That was all over now. He was just kneeling there, looking up at her and waiting calmly, present and attentive and open. 

Maybe that was why it felt kind of good. Kind of right.

“...Christine?” She heard him saying.

“Sorry, what?” She had to say, as soon as she realized that had been the end of his sentence, not the beginning.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Did you clean the scrape thoroughly, right afterwards?”  
She had to smile. “Yes, Erik. It’s clean, don’t worry about it.”

“And you cleaned it with soap and water, correct? I hope you didn’t use hydrogen peroxide, you know that won’t actually— oh.“

She leaned down, impulsively, and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re so sweet.”

He blinked. “Angel, not to ruin the moment, but I’m—“

By now she knew to cut that particular speech off before it got started. “No, you’re sweet. Now come on, let’s go to bed. I’m really tired.”

He looked at her for one more long moment, then sighed and stood. “Alright. Let me go turn off the lights, you get in bed.”

Christine nodded, and slid under the covers.

Her husband arrived a moment later, just like she knew he would. Christine Daaé slept just fine that night, for all that she had a new image tucked into the back of her mind: Erik, on his knees, with his eyes warm and smiling.


End file.
